


We Need A Resolution

by mangocianamarch



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, SIZE KINK EVERYWHERE, Sexting, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, and will probably be a little OOC but bear with me lelz, dean is flustered and confused and aroused but doesn't want to be, martin is a bit of a creeper, richard is adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't help but think Martin is trying to get between himself and Richard. Richard may or may not think that's such a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Eyyyy my last fic for 2013!
> 
> Here's hoping I actually finish it before the New Year, aahahahahahaha I doubt it, but we'll see.
> 
> Anyway, this came out of me FINALLY shipping Richard/Martin thanks to the all too amazing [Rachel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/barracutie). And because I'm me and because she's as supportive of my ships as anyone could possibly ask for, I couldn't keep Dean out. So this fic was promised, and now it's partially written. YAY ME.
> 
> I'm a little reluctant to give backstory, but here it is anyway - Dean and Richard had been together, but for reasons that I never quite came up with, they decided to take a break until they individually figured out what they really wanted. While they were on break, they gave each other permission to see other people, and although Dean didn't date anyone else, Richard took up with Martin briefly, although it was never very serious. When Richard and Dean got back together, Dean decided he wanted to try living with Richard to see if the UK life fits him, and some time before the events of this fic, probably a few weeks before, Martin came over expecting Richard but getting Dean instead. Although there was no fighting, something far more interesting happened.
> 
> I cannot help but feel no shame except for the fact that the first chapter has no real smut, but it'll come, just be patient.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply, of course - I don't claim to know any of the guys IRL, and they are in no way affiliated with this fic (or any of the fics I've ever written about them, God have mercy), but if they did, they'd be laughing their asses off at me but hug me because they pity me and my life choices.
> 
> I'm kidding, they would never hug me, I never take baths.

“Oh God,” Dean groans in distress, all but flinging his phone away.

“Oh God what?” Richard asks, pouring hot water into his mug first, and then into Dean’s.

Dean lets his head fall forward onto the dining table. “I’m done,” he sighs, “I’m just...I’m so done. I can’t with him anymore, honestly.”

Richard chuckles as he dips tea bags into each mug, and Dean growls, slightly muffled.

“Don’t fucking laugh, it’s not funny!” he protests.

“Yes, well, that’s what you get,” Richard replies with a small shrug as he joins Dean at the table and pushes the blond’s cup towards him, “Aside from other things you already got from him.”

“Fucking hell, Rich,” Dean huffs, “For the last time, it wasn’t supposed to go that way, okay? He just showed up, and we weren’t even...All I did was ask him why you chose _him_ , it was _innocent_ until he just shoved me against a wall and kissed me.”

“And then he just happened to suck your cock,” Richard laughs, “I know, I know.”

“Richard, I swear to God, I’m going to throw my tea at you,” Dean moans, “Mug and all.”

“Why are you so uptight about it anyway?” Richard asks him, “I said I forgave you, all things considered. Besides, it wasn’t ever serious enough between him and me for me to be completely angry about the whole thing.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Richard,” replies Dean, pulling his tea bag out and swirling it around in the hot water, “Besides, that’s not even it. It’s the fucking texts. He won’t effing _stop_.”

“They’re harmless,” Richard shrugs dismissively.

Dean fixes him with a look of annoyance. “Richard, there is literally nothing harmless about the guy you had a brief fling with _sexting_ your once and current boyfriend. With your full knowledge. AND consent.”

“Your Honor, I object,” Richard shoots back, “When I gave Martin your number, I had no idea this is what he would be up to.”

Dean narrows his eyes at Richard. “Was that an erection joke just now?” he asks, and Richard seems to think about it first, and then laughs when he realizes that yes, yes it was, “First of all: how dare you. Secondly, _how dare you_.”

“It was unintentional, I swear!” Richard protests, still laughing.

Dean’s phone goes off, alerting him to another message, and he shoots a death glare at it. “I’m almost frightened to look.”

“Fine, I’ll do it then,” Richard sighs, picking Dean’s phone up and checking the message himself, “It’s from your brother.”

“Really?” Dean asks, taking his phone back.

_Still thinking about you. You looked so pretty when you were so close to coming. Can still taste your prick in my mouth. Miss it. – M._

“Richard Armitage, you are a despicable man, and I hope you step on a fucking Lego when you’re walking around barefoot in my studio downstairs,” Dean huffs, quickly deleting the text and letting his phone fall from his hands and to the table with a clatter. He pushes his chair back and stands to leave, but Richard’s hand closes around his wrist.

“Aww, don’t,” Richard coos sweetly as he pulls Dean onto his lap, “I’m sorry, babe, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean argues, “You’re still laughing.”

“Yes, okay, I am,” Richard relents, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry I tricked you.”

“You’re encouraging him, you bastard,” Dean sighs, “Don’t even deny it, I know what you’re doing, you’re fucking letting him do this to me to torture me.”

“Babe, we both know that if I _really_ wanted to torture you,” Richard says, nosing at Dean’s jaw and dropping his voice just enough, “I wouldn’t be doing it like this.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you though,” Dean points out, sighing in a very different way when Richard’s lips make contact with his skin, “Ugh, let go of me, jerkface.” With one hand he pounds (a little lackadaisically) at Richard’s shoulder, with the other he clutches to his shirt. If his hips stutter a little against Richard, that’s entirely consequential.

“Kiss me and I’ll let go of you,” Richard bargains, breath hot on Dean’s skin.

“Let go of me and I’ll kiss you,” Dean barters, twitching a little at the feather-light touch of Richard’s fingers on the small of his back when they slip past the hem of his shirt.

“You impossible little shit,” Richard says affectionately, grinning against Dean’s nose, “Throwing my own offer back at me.”

“You perverted old wanker,” Dean answers, “Getting hard from some other perverted old wanker texting lewd things to your boyfriend.”

“Ah, you’ve got me there,” confesses Richard, “The thought that my boyfriend could be so attractive to someone else that it makes them want to just take his cock in their mouth on pure instinct does turn me on quite a bit.” He nips at Dean’s lower lip.

“You’re so disgusting,” Dean replies, but he presses himself against Richard, earning himself a tight-lipped groan, “Fuck me.”

“Kiss me first,” Richard offers again.

“Then will you fuck me?” Dean asks him.

“Right here if you really want me to.”

“No, fuck you, we eat here!”

“I’m not carrying you to the bedroom, you’re bloody heavy.”

“Then I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“Dammit.”

Dean laughs, and finally kisses Richard. He can’t help but kiss him sweetly, because Richard is too adorable and too sweet and too funny, even when he’s being such an insufferable moron about the whole Martin thing. Richard’s hands are on his hips, and Dean’s hands are in Richard’s hair and around his neck, pulling him close so he can kiss him deep, if a little possessively.

In return, Richard makes good on his offer and rises, gripping Dean close, and somehow they manage to make it to the bedroom without breaking contact or bumping into anything that might cause them lasting bodily harm. Richard dumps Dean back-first onto the bed before stripping his shirt off, and then he’s settling his weight on Dean again, who kisses him blind.

 

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

 

“What was he like?” Dean asks softly, head resting on Richard’s forearm, his hand lazy on Richard’s spunk-laced stomach.

“Who, Martin?” Richard replies, fingers in Dean’s hair.

“No, the fucking Easter Bunny,” Dean huffs, “Yes, Martin. What was he like, you know...in bed, and...stuff?”

Richard lets out a single chuckle. “Are you sure you want to be asking that?” he warns Dean kindly, “I mean, are you sure you really want me to answer?”

Dean shrugs. “Call it morbid curiosity,” he tells Richard, because really, that’s what it is, “Morbid _fascination_ even. And don’t pull anything, just...Just be completely honest.”

“Are you sure?” Richard asks again, and Dean gives him a singular nod, “He was...good. Pretty good, actually. Bit aggressive, but you know I like that. He likes it a bit rough and fast. And he’s a bit of a talker.”

“Was he tight?” Dean finds himself asking all too casually.

“Yes,” Richard replies with just a little bit of reluctance, “Like a vice those first few times.”

“Did you come inside him?” Dean’s not sure where these questions are coming from, but he’s slightly more alarmed at the thought that he really _does_ want to know, and not because he’s still bitter that any of it happened at all.

“No,” Richard tells him, “That’s reserved just for you.” Richard plants a kiss in his curls.

Neither Dean nor Richard is prepared for Dean’s next inquiry. “Did _he_ fuck _you_?”

Richard takes his time with this one. Dean doesn’t blame him, but at the same time, he _really wants to know_.

“Twice,” Richard says after a while, “I enjoyed it. I prefer you.”

The reaction in Dean’s body is the exact opposite of how he thought he might react. “Yeah, you say that _now_ ,” Dean teases Richard all the same.

“No, I really do though,” Richard laughs, “You just probably know me better than he does. Not that it was bad, mind you. And God, he’s good with his mouth, isn’t he?”

“I will admit to that,” Dean relents, “He spits though, the fucking cheater.”

Richard laughs a bit more fully at that. “What was he like with you?” he asks Dean, who purses his lips.

“We’ve been through this, Rich,” Dean says, “That’s for me to know.” He tries to get up to get himself and Richard cleaned, but for the second time in as many hours, he finds himself being stopped by and pulled to Richard, their chests pressed against each other.

“Ah-ah, not fair,” Richard says, reaching up and booping Dean on the nose with a finger, “I told you mine, you tell me yours.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a trade offered at all, Mr Armitage,” Dean huffs, “And this time, no matter _how_ much you bargain or try to bribe me with, I’m not saying.”

“Aww, come on, Deano!” Richard whines, pouting almost comically, “I bet it was hot.”

“It was, obviously, you came in just as _I_ came,” Dean reminds him, mentally swatting away that tiny voice telling him that that’s a white lie, “Now seriously, Rich, let go, you’ve got an appearance to make, and I’ve got photos to edit.”

“Ugh, work,” Richard groans, “Must the responsibilities of real life get in the way of such blissful ignorance of the outside world?”

“You talk pretty,” Dean answers, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, “But yes. Yes they do. Now get your arse in that bath and get clean.”

“I could use the company,” Richard suggests as Dean rolls off of him.

“Of course you could,” Dean says dismissively, “But I don’t need to tell you what happened the last time you had company in there.”

“Oh, so it’s suddenly my fault that you have an amazing ass and a delicious dick,” Richard replies in mock-hurt, “Victim-blaming, I see how it is.”

“Shut up and take a bath, fucker,” Dean laughs, throwing a pillow at him, “I’ll go after you.”

Richard puts his hands up in surrender as Dean bends and picks up the first shirt he gets his hands on. It’s Richard’s, but he doesn’t really care. He kind of likes it, actually; it smells and feels like him. It’s comforting. As Dean pulls his boxers back on, Richard drops a last kiss on the spot where Dean’s shoulder and neck meet before he shuffles off to the bathroom.

Dean makes his way back to the kitchen, where he finds his phone and their forgotten tea still on the small breakfast table. His phone’s indicator is flashing; someone seems to have texted him while they were busy inside. Dean has a sneaking suspicion, but is admittedly too curious to not check.

 

_I wonder what it might be like to fuck you, Dean. I wonder what it takes to make you come without touching your cock. I’d love to find out. – M._

Dean tries to ignore the sudden lump in his throat, and the way his dick twitches a little in interest. He clears his throat and puts his phone away.

For the first time since the sexts started, Dean forgets to delete the message.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes a phone call, and Richard takes himself out of the picture. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait on the update to this! I just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to those of you who have left kudos and comments and have bookmarked this fic. Richartean (thanks Rachel) has become my new OT3, and it's taken over quite a bit, I can't get enough of it now. :P
> 
> There WILL be smut in the next and final chapter, tbh it's nothing BUT smut, but I hope you read this all the same to, er, prep you.
> 
> ALSO: As usual, my stuff is un-beta'd, so any mistakes are all my own, please feel free to let me know if you spot any so I can fix them. :D

Dean can hardly believe it when his phone rings just five minutes after he gets what must be the 50th text from Martin (today alone). He groans in annoyance when he reads the contact ID.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” he asks in a forceful whisper, as if Richard’s going to hear him in the kitchen from all the way in the master bathroom.

“Wanted to hear your voice,” Martin replies nonchalantly, as if the answer should’ve been obvious to Dean, “You alone?”

“Pervert,” Dean hisses, flopping into the chair he had occupied a while ago, “You know damn well that I’m not.”

“I also know damn well that Richard’s got some place to be,” answers Martin, and Dean curses silently to himself, “So, you alone yet?”

“Fuck off,” Dean snaps, but makes no move to end the call.

“You are, aren’t you?” Martin must be fucking _grinning_ , Dean can practically hear it. “What are you wearing?”

“A very disgusted expression on my face.” It’s a lie; Dean is biting his lip to keep from chuckling at Martin’s cheese. “Look, Martin, honestly, it’s all getting just a little disconcerting already, okay? I still don’t know what the hell came over me when we...you know, and...yeah, Richard and I have been back together for weeks, and while the texts were amusing before, they’re slightly annoying now.”

“Why?” Martin inquires, “Because Richard thinks the entire thing is funny? I did warn him I’d do it.”

Dean sighs heavily. “You do know you’re sounding less and less appealing, don’t you?” he tells Martin.

“Can I come over?”

Dean sputters. “What?”

“Can. I. Come. Over?”

“Fuck no.”

“I’m coming over.”

“What part of ‘fuck no’ did you not understand, you shithead?”

“Will you relax? He’ll be long gone by the time I get there.”

“You are so fucking creepy.”

“Do you like it, Deano?”

“Martin, I swear to God, I will castrate you if I see so much as your shadow on my fucking lawn.”

“See you in half an hour, handsome.”

“Mar--” Dean is cut off by Martin ending the call abruptly. Dean sighs again, letting his head fall onto the table before letting out an exasperated growl.

“You okay?” comes Richard’s voice, and Dean snaps back up.

“Do pigs fly?” Dean replies, and Richard gives him a look of affectionate pity.

“Martin again?” he asks, although Dean is sure Richard has figured it out.

“He fucking called this time,” Dean tells him, “ _Called_. He said he just wanted to _hear my voice_.”

“ _I_ like hearing your voice,” Richard points out.

“Richard, I’m going to send you to your appearance with a fucking shiner,” Dean huffs.

“So he’s coming over then?” asks Richard as he pours himself a glass of water.

Dean is frowning at him in confusion so hard he thinks his eyebrows are actually touching. “Yeah, but...How did...How did you even know?”

“He asked me if it was okay if he did,” Richard tells Dean casually, “A couple of days ago, I think. He said he just wanted to talk to you in private, to apologize and hash things out. I told him it was up to you, but that I’d be out this afternoon if he really thought it was a good idea.”

Dean whimpers in the back of his throat. “You let him _come_? After what _happened_? You’re _really_ going to let him be _alone_ with me?”

“He just wants to apologize, that’s all.”

“There was nothing apologetic about the way he asked me what I was wearing.”

Richard laughs, actually laughs, and if he didn’t look so adorable, Dean would be throwing the kitchen knives at him. “Just relax,” he says, trying to placate Dean, “I think it’s good for you two to talk things out. If it makes you feel any better, I’m giving you _carte blanche_ to talk about me while I’m gone. Why are you so worried anyway?”

Dean’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry, did the five million naughty text messages not give you a fucking clue?!”

“Is that _really_ all you’re worried about, babe?”

Richard’s brows are slightly raised, the tiniest knowing smirk in the corner of his pursed lips.

“Richard Crispin Armitage,” Dean exhales, “I hope you aren’t insinuating what I think you’re insinuating.”

Richard shrugs. “I don’t know how you actually really feel about him, and I don’t plan on trying to control it either,” he promises Dean gently, “I mean, you _did_ move in with me when I suggested it, so I think that stands for some significance between the two of us. But I think you and I both would be idiots if we’re not at least considering the fact that you might just be attracted to him.”

“Of course I’m attracted to him, _you_ fucking are too, but that’s not the point!” Dean moans, “I just...What if I do something stupid? What if you’re wrong, and he’s _not_ coming over to apologize? What if something happens while you’re gone?”

Richard’s expression softens even more, and Dean feels almost silly. “You know,” Richard says, stepping into Dean’s space, “Horrible as this sounds, I think you’re really cute when you’re all flustered and confused. Your face does this _thing_ and your voice gets high-pitched, and _ugh_ , you’re adorable.” He kisses Dean’s forehead before Dean can protest. “How about we just cross that bridge when we get there?”

“...Don’t you mean _if_?” Dean asks him, “We’ll cross that bridge _if_ we get there? Oh my God, you don’t trust me! Perfect, that’s just perfect, fucking peachy keen. Not only did my partner give his ex-fling who I’m awkward around because of _the thing that happened that I don’t even really want to think about anymore_ permission to be alone with me, it turns out he doesn’t trust me! Fucking great boyfriend I must be.”

“Calm down, you nutter,” Richard chuckles, giving him a quick, placating kiss, “It’s _exactly_ because I trust you that I said that.”

“What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?” Dean asks, even more perplexed now, but Richard is checking his watch.

“I really should get going,” Richard says, “If you need me, my phone’s going to be with the publicist, okay? I’m parking the car at the office as well, apparently they’ve got a ride for me. Fucking strange, I told them I could just drive to the place, but no.” One more kiss. “See you later then.”

Dean knows he can’t keep Richard here, not when he’s got a job to do, and that just annoys him all the more. All the same, he lets him go and locks the front door behind him.

 

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

 

Dean doesn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but he’s wakened by the doorbell. In the few seconds before he reaches the door, he _actually_ wonders who it might be. He opens the door, and –

“Hello, sexy.”

“Oh shit,” Dean breathes, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Martin cocks his head to one side, giving Dean a once-over. “Well, don’t look _too_ happy to see me, you might use up the fucking quota,” he snorts, “Are you gonna let me in?”

“I’m very tempted,” Dean answers with a wry smirk.

“I’m sure you are,” Martin teases, dropping his voice, “But I don’t think that’s something you want Richard’s neighbours seeing all over his yard.”

“Ah fuck,” Dean exhales, “Get in here then.”

He steps aside, and when Martin walks past him, he’s pretty sure he winks at him.

“God, look at this place,” Martin chuckles to himself as Dean closes the front door behind him, “It’s changed already, and you’ve only been here, what, a few weeks?” He walks around the main living room slowly, touching a few things as if he’s examining them, and his hand lingers on the leather couch. “Fuck, it already _feels_ like you.”

Dean blinks, wondering how and why the hell Martin’s voice could have the same effect on him that Richard’s does. “Is there something in particular that you want, Martin?” he asks, and when Martin just turns to him, eyebrow raised and lips crooked in a smirk, Dean sighs in exasperation, “Don’t fucking do that.”

Martin lets out an easy laugh. “Okay, admittedly, I may be coming on a tad too strong,” he acquiesces, “But you should know, all those texts, that night, none of that was a game. That wasn’t just because I was _bored_ or something.”

He’s looking directly at Dean, right at him, and Dean has to look away. “Shut up,” he murmurs, one hand on his hip as he shakes his head, trying to clear it, “Shut up. Just...shut up.”

Martin is watching him like an adult watching his baby. “We had fun that night, didn’t we?” he asks, “I know I did. You were --”

“ _Shut the fuck up_ ,” Dean growls through gritted teeth, and Martin does as he’s told, an amused half-smile on his face, “This isn’t fair, you know. This is just...This is so unfair. I mean...You know, you _know_ things weren’t ever going to be the same between me and Richard, and you’re doing this on purpose, I don’t know what the _fuck_ for, but fuck you if you think I’m going to believe this isn’t you just trying to cut in again.”

“Cut in?” Martin echoes, “Definitely not, mate. It’s more about getting a taste once, and it was hardly enough.”

Dean shakes his head. “Should never have been my problem,” he points out, opening the door and making way, “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like for you to leave, because honestly, I don’t know what the hell Richard was thinking when he said you could come over.”

But Martin doesn’t move. He just blinks at Dean from the sofa, and the longer he stares, the more frustrated Dean becomes.

“Fine,” sighs Dean, “I’m going to go...somewhere else. I’d much prefer it if you left. I’m going to count to ten, and I hope you’ll be gone by then, and we can put the entire thing behind us once and for all. Okay?”

Breaking eye contact with Martin, Dean heads to the kitchen, where he finally puts away the cups of tea that had barely been touched. “One...two...” he counts to himself as he goes about his work, “...Three...four...”

No sound. It’s slightly disconcerting.

“Five...six...”

 _Click_. That was the door. Dean’s sure of it. Still, as he walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room, he checks around before heading back to his bedroom.

“Seven...” he continues to count anyway, “Eight...nine...”

And then without warning, he is shoved chest first into the wall.

“Ten,” Martin whispers in Dean’s ear.

“Shit, Martin,” Dean mewls. He can feel Martin’s denim-hidden hardness against his arse, right in the crease, “Fucker.”

“I had to get your attention somehow,” chuckles Martin, “Did you honestly think you were going to get rid of me that fucking easily?”

“It’s not _you_ I was trying to get rid of, per se,” Dean pants.

Martin drops a tiny kiss on his shoulder. “I know, Deano,” he tells Dean, “I know.” His arms skim around Dean’s waist until one hand is underneath Richard’s shirt that Dean had put on. Fingers trace the garter of Dean’s boxer-briefs lightly, teasing, and already Dean can feel his body reacting. He bites his lip to fight down a moan when Martin’s hips give a deliberate but slow push against him.

“Did you miss me?” Martin asks him, “Coz I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“I can tell,” Dean huffs, “Martin, we really shouldn’t...”

“Probably not, no,” Martin answers. His hand scoots down a little lower, and Dean shivers when the tips of his fingers brush against the tip of his quickly wakening cock behind his underwear, “This was probably a very bad idea.” He cups Dean fully, and Dean whimpers. “A very, _very_ bad idea.” He bucks against Dean, sending him into Martin’s palm.

“God,” Dean hums, “Martin, fuck, seriously...”

“Listen, Dean, I’m not an idiot,” Martin tells him, and although his voice is a little ragged, his tone is serious, sincere, “I know you and Richard are together, and quite frankly I feel like the world’s luckiest bastard because I’ve had you both. Thing is, Dean, I can’t get either of you out of my head, and it’s frustrating. It’s bloody exhausting to know you’re literally just a few blocks away, and yet I’m left to just wank in the privacy of my own home. Maybe I want to get this out of my system once and for all, or maybe I just need a taste of it again, but either way, I’m not taking care of this on my own anymore.”

“So that’s all I am then, eh?” Dean asks him, half-teasing, “A nagging itch that needs to be scratched?”

“Maybe,” laughs Martin, “But my favourite itch, and one I loved scratching, and would love to scratch again. I’m not asking for anything lasting, or anything you don’t want to give me, because you _do_ want this too, that’s the reason you’re so fucking upset. But you shouldn’t be upset, don’t be upset with me, Dean.” He starts to stroke Dean’s length slowly, and Dean’s eyes flutter close as he sighs. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.” He kisses at Dean’s nape, and Dean thinks he feels just a little tongue.

“I’m not...” Dean breathes, “Not upset, I’m... _dammit_.”

Martin is grinding just enough against him so that Dean can feel it, and he thinks he should be fighting Martin even a bit more. If Richard ever found out how easily he’s giving in right now, he’d probably laugh at him for years.

“Really want you, Dean,” Martin says, voice dripping with greed, “I want to feel you tight and hot around me, I want you begging me to fuck you harder and faster, and I want to watch you come again, co z you’re so fucking pretty when you’re coming.”

Dean is rock hard when Martin slips his hand beneath the garter to take him naked in his fist. He growls, his chest heaving as he tries to keep his wits about him.

“What do you say, Dean?” Martin offers, “You, me, the couch in the living room...”

 

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

 

Richard is only about halfway through the autograph line, because he’s making sure he takes pictures with the fans if they ask for it (even if the organizers said no; that’s just not fair, honestly). To be fair, not a lot of them are asking, because they’ve been discouraged from it, and for them, Richard personalizes his message a little more.

Beside him, Luke flexes his writing hand a little. “Probably should’ve stopped by the gym first,” he jokes, and Richard chuckles, knowing the feeling all too well. It has been weeks and weeks of publicity, after all.

His publicist comes over to very quickly tell him he’s got a couple of new messages on his phone. Thinking it might be Dean, he takes the phone from her and hastily clicks it open, offering a quick apology to the fan next in line.

 

_Quite a nice view you’ve got from here, Rich. – M._

 

A text from _Martin_ , but sent from Dean’s phone. Unsure about what that could mean, he sets his phone aside for a while, and finishes signing the autograph for the fan. His phone goes off again with another message, also sent from Dean’s phone. This one has a picture attached, apparently. He quickly pockets his phone.

He waits until the signing is over and he and Luke are allowed to leave. He climbs into the limo he and his publicist had arrived in, and when his phone beeps again, he’s thankful that she’s sitting opposite him.

 

_No. Seriously. What a view. – M._

 

This one has a picture too, and he finally risks opening it. He nearly chokes, and definitely feels himself buck a little, when he opens the file.

There’s Dean, naked on the couch, his head between Martin’s legs, his pretty lips wrapped around Martin’s cock.

 

_What a view in deed._

 

“Hey, Liz,” he asks quietly, trying to keep his expression clear, because he’s pretty sure he’s starting to show in his pants just a little bit, “Any chance we could get me back home a little faster?”

 

 

 


End file.
